"Dogs are no good," went on Mr. Larabee, pointing a long, lean finger at Grit. "If he were mine I'd----" He didn't finish the sentence, for the bulldog, with the hair on the ridge of his back standing up in anger, and with his lips parted in an ugly snarl, darted away from Dick. The animal might have sprung at Mr. Larabee, but for the restraining hand of his master on his collar. However, the crabbed old man did not wait. Toward the library he fled, crying out: "Hold him, Richard! Hold him! If he bites me I'll sue your father for damages!" He reached the library and slammed shut the door. Mr. Hamilton followed more slowly, endeavoring not to smile or laugh. "Better put Grit outside, Dick," he said. "Your uncle is going home in the morning." "All right," agreed the young millionaire, somewhat regretfully. "Come on, Grit, old man, we'll go out to the stable and see how Rex is getting along," for Dick had not greeted his pet horse since his return from the academy. Mr. Hamilton continued on to the library, and tried the door. It was locked. "Let me in, Ezra," he called. "Is that savage dog gone?" inquired Mr. Larabee, with anxiety in his voice. "Yes, Dick has taken him to the stable." "That's where he belongs. Wait a minute and I'll open the door." There were sounds inside, as though tables and chairs were being moved away from the portal, and then Uncle Ezra's lean face was thrust carefully out of a crack of the door, as he cautiously opened it. He took a survey up and down the hall, and, seeing no signs of Grit, swung the door wider. "He wouldn't hurt you," said Mr. Hamilton, as he entered. "Grit is as gentle as a lamb." "Lamb! Humph, you can't make me believe that!" snorted Mr. Larabee. "He'd have bitten me if I'd stayed there." Mr. Hamilton did not answer, but drawing up an easy chair, and indicating another for his brother-in-law, inquired: "What was it you wanted to see me about, Ezra?" "It's this," went on Mr. Larabee, walking over and locking the library door. "I'm going back to Dankville to-morrow, but, before I go, I consider it my duty to make one last appeal to you not to let Richard go off on this yachting cruise." "Why not?" "Because it will squander a lot of money that he ought to save up against the time of need." "Oh, Dick has plenty, and so have I." "That may be, but it's the wrong sort of training for a young man. Richard ought to be taught the habits of thrift and frugality." "His mother and I think he ought to be trained to fulfill his station in life, which is that of a millionaire. Did you ever stop to think, Ezra, that a millionaire may do good by spending his money freely, not foolishly." "No, I don't know as I ever did." "Well, he can. Think of how many persons he keeps employed, and how he helps to give them a chance to earn their living." "Well, Mortimer, you and I never will think alike on that subject. But will you do as I ask--not let Richard waste this money for a yacht?"